A Gotham Christmas Carol
by bradp521
Summary: A "What If" spin on the Dickens classic as Bruce Wayne is visited in the wake of War Games
1. The Visitor

Gotham winters were always cold, as if the grayness that seemed to permeate the city year-round was able to, for a few months, take on a tangible form and chill the body as thoroughly as it always did the heart and soul.

Batman didn't seem to notice the cold. If he did, he made no note of it. He worked his way through the streets as usual, pausing only the slightest bit as he passed the empty lot where the last vestiges of the old Gotham Clocktower had stood. Its destruction was only one of many changes resulting from the recent gang war that had swept across Gotham City.

He almost instinctively called his "troops" to ask them to report in, but there was really nobody there to give a report. Robin and Batgirl were in Bludhaven for the duration of Nightwing's self-imposed exile. Oracle, Black Canary, and Huntress had created a new headquarters for themselves in a converted Blackhawk jet, making the Birds of Prey truly airborne. Catwoman was busy with matters in the East End. In a tragic bit or irony, Spoiler, who had inadvertently started the gang war, was gone, one of its many causalties..

There was always the police band, but it only took a few minutes of listening to realize that there was nothing going on at the moment that required his assistance. There were a few reports of muggers, drug dealers, and various other lowlifes being apprehended, and with every report, came the pointed question from HQ: "Any sign of any capes?" The answer was always negative, but the fact that the question was being asked to begin with said a great deal about how much his relationship with the Gotham City Police Department had changed.

Finally, as the wintry dawn broke over the city skyline, Batman turned his car toward the suburbs and headed back to Wayne Manor. As he pulled into the cave, Alfred had already risen and was making his way down the stairs with a tray of tasty bits of nourishment, none of which would keep Bruce Wayne awake. He sat in front of the massive computer, running various scans and searches as he ate.

"Have you decided where you wish to obtain a tree this year, Master Bruce?"

Without looking up from the computer screen, Bruce simply said, "No." He finished the light snack, shed his cape and cowl and retired to his bedroom.

Each day, as the night's patrol overlapped into the dawn, the ritual repeated itself. Attempts to engage Bruce in some kind of planning for the holiday were met with few words.

On the morning of the 24th, after Bruce went to sleep, Alfred returned to the kitchen. He opened his journal as he did many of these early mornings, recording his thoughts as he sipped his tea and prepared for the day ahead.

_The morning of December 24. It is Christmas Eve once again, only this time a bit emptier than usual. I remember when Master Bruce was still very young, before the awful night that changed everything. Even with the Manor being as large as it is for only 4 people, it seemed filled with warmth and joy. Mrs. Wayne enjoyed the decorating, finding something festive but unique for every room. Dr Wayne would take charge of finding a tree. And Master Bruce would spend endless hours trying to guess the contents of the various presents. After they were murdered, the Manor would be dark and quiet for the holidays for several years until Master Dick joined us. Although it was never quite the same, there was always somebody with whom to make merry the holiday, but not this year. This year, they are all in other places, and Master Bruce is again refusing to let in the light of the holiday. As with so many of the tragedies that have marked his life, I can only watch and stand ready to help. And hope._

With that, Alfred paused, and then he closed the journal, replacing it in the small kitchen desk he used, and locking the drawer.

* * *

In the master bedroom, Bruce was beginning to slip into a deep sleep when a bright light filled the room. The Dark Knight was wide awake in an instant, attempting to see where the light was coming from, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Still sleeping during the day, I see," said the voice. "Bruce, I never did figure how you managed to keep up the odd appearances at WayneCorp."

A curious look came over Bruce's face, even as he was shading his eyes. He whispered, "Jason?"

"Yeah, Bruce, it's me." With that, the light in the room dimmed, and Bruce saw his second Robin standing at the foot of his bed.

"What are you doing here?" Bruce asked. "Did Deadman bring you? Zatanna?"

"No, they're busy doing holiday things," Jason said. "You do know this is Christmas Eve, don't you?"

"You didn't answer my question," Bruce said slowly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you, Bruce," answered Jason. "Through all the time I was with you, I was learning from you. Now it's time for you to learn something from me."

Bruce pulled his robe around himself and sat in a chair. Touching his fingers together in front of his mouth, he said simply, "I'm listening."

Jason sat on the edge of Bruce's night table and said, "Do you remember how I died?"

A pained look flashed across Bruce's face before he nodded. "I remember how Jason died. If you ARE Jason, you tell me."

"Always the skeptic," Jason said. "I went looking for my mother by myself instead of asking you to help. You're the world's greatest detective, but I pushed you away and searched for her on my own."

"But I caught up with you," Bruce remembered. "You weren't on your own."

Jason shook his head and said, "You aren't remembering everything. You had gone off to pursue a lead, and you told me not to contact my mother until you returned. But in a final act of pushing you away, I watched you go and promptly went to her."

Bruce paused for a moment, then asked, "What does that have to do with now? Why come back now to talk about this?"

"Because you're doing the same thing I did," said Jason with more than a hint of exasperation. "Think about what happened when the earthquake hit Gotham and you told everyone from the Justice League all the way down to Robin to stay out. You had to do it all yourself, so you pushed them all away. Same as you did when Bane broke the inmates out of Arkham. You had to protect Gotham by yourself."

"Gotham is my responsibility," Bruce said resolutely.

Jason simply shook his head and said, "Somehow I knew you were going to say that." He rose from the edge of the dresser and knelt next to Bruce's chair. He "placed" his ghostly hand on Bruce's arm and said, "You're going to get a chance to learn. On patrol tonight, you can expect to encounter three visitors. Listen to them. Look at what they have to show you."

He stood up, and said, "You don't have to end up like I did." With that, he waved his hand, and disappeared in a flash of light.

* * *

The next thing Bruce knew, he was in his bed, and the clock said it was noon.


	2. The Ghost of Christmas Past

Bruce was often silent during meals, but to Alfred, he seemed more preoccupied than usual.

"Is something wrong, Master Bruce?" he inquired.

Glancing up, Bruce said, "Hmm? Oh, no. I don't think so. Just thinking about some ... things."

He left the dining room, descended to the cave, and called up the manor security video from that morning. He quickly viewed the tapes, but found nothing unusual, and a scan of the tapes showed no sign of tampering.

Next came a computer search for the current location and status of adversaries who knew of his secret identity and were known to use psychological, hallucinogenic, or hypnotic methods. Hugo Strange. Bane. Riddler. Ra's Al Ghul. David Cain. The list was longer than he'd like it to be.

Most were eliminated due to either being in prison or Arkham Asylum, believed deceased, or believed to be elsewhere. Only a very few were at large, location unkown.

Moving to the lab area, he assembled the components of a toxicology screen, drew the requisite samples, and ran the tests. The results came back normal.

He thought for a moment, and then he began an exhaustive diagnostic of the computerized security system. While that program was running, he returned upstairs and spent the next two hours manually inspecting each of the security cameras, looking for signs of tampering. He checked the cameras for extraneous fingerprints (or a lack of legitimate prints) or any other sign that the camera could have been corrupted. There were no signs of any problems, though, and returning to the computer, he looked at the results of the diagnostic which revealed no unauthorized access and no gaps in the logs.

With his lips set tightly in a straight line, he left the computer and stood for a few moments before the glass case holding Jason Todd's Robin uniform. Then he went on with his usual ritual, and minutes later, the Batmobile roared out of the cave.

* * *

Batman looked over the docks from his perch on the roof of a warehouse, but they were deserted. This was one place where he could almost always depend on for some action to break the monotony of patrol. However, between the cold and the impending holiday, even the cowardly and suspicious lot he normally dealt with had apparently found other places to congregate. He was about to move farther down the waterfront when he saw a flash of light a couple blocks away where he had left the car.

He flew across the rooftops until he had reached a spot overlooking what had been a deserted alley. Eyes narrowing, he saw a vaguely familiar feminine form standing next to the car. She was leaning against the hood, her arms wrapped around herself. Understandable, since her coat may have been fashionable a generation ago but it hadn't been designed with warmth in mind. She looked from side to side, as though waiting for someone, but Batman's quick scan of the area indicated that he and the woman were alone.

He wondered for a moment why the vehicle's automatic defenses had not kicked in, but leaving that question for later, he dropped lightly to the ground and softly growled, "Step away from the car."

She didn't turn to look at him at first. She simply said, "Those weren't the manners I thought we taught you." Then she faced him, and as the moonlight fell upon her face, she added, "Were they, Bruce?"

Batman tightened his jaw, lest it drop open in surprise. He stepped forward, looking her in the eye but saying nothing. She waited for him to speak, but when he remained silent, she finally said, "It's been a long time, son, but I know you still remember me."

"I know who you remind me of," he answered. "If you expect me to believe that you are who you appear to be, you'll have to prove it."

She sighed softly and said, "Jason was right."

"Jason?" he asked in response. "What about him?"

"Jason," she answered. "Your second partner. I know he told you that you would have visitors tonight."

Beneath his cowl, the hidden expression on his face said that a part of him wanted to believe. A lifetime of training forced him to question, though, and he asked, "What do you know about Jason?"

Without answering his question, she simply said, "The night is short, as is the time for this visit. You can either believe I am your mother or not." With that, Martha Wayne placed her hand on her son's shoulder, and before he had a chance to remove it, there was another flash of light, and the alley was empty again.

* * *

Wayne Manor was brightly illuminated, the flickering colored lights reflecting on the fresh snow that covered the patio. There was a brief flash of light, and Batman appeared beside his mother standing next to the window. He looked around at the lights and at the large wreath adorning the side of the mansion above the large bay windows.

Turning to his mother with a questioning look on his face, he began, "Who --?"

"Don't you remember?" she asked. "It was all Alfred could do to get you into your coat before you joined your father to put them up."

"I haven't put up this much decoration since ….," he began.

"Shh," she said. "I know. This isn't about that horrible night, though. Look!"

Almost instinctively, he looked through the window into the living room.

* * *

The living room was dominated by a large Christmas tree, decorated with lights of many colors, rows of garland, ornaments of various shapes and sizes, and on top, a luminous star. In the fireplace, a steady flame consumed consuming the neatly piled logs, and stockings for each member of the family were hung on the mantle. Thomas Wayne was on the loveseat, puffing on his pipe, with Martha was next to him. Bruce was sitting at their feet, sipping a glass of eggnog and focusing his attention on Alfred, who was seated in what was usually Thomas' chair.

From memory, Alfred recited, "He stared down at Who-ville! The Grinch popped his eyes! Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise! Every Who down in Who-ville, the tall and the small, was singing! Without any presents at all!" Alfred's voice and facial expressions mirrored the thoughts and feelings of each word, When he finished the famous tale, young Bruce clapped and cheered. After Alfred excused himself, Bruce turned to his father and said, "Now it's your turn."

Thomas smiled and playfully tousled his son's hair before going to the bookcase and removing a slender volume. Returning to his seat, he opened the book and began, "'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."

* * *

"Do you remember those Christmas Eves, Bruce?" Martha asked her caped and cowled son on the patio.

Batman nodded without a word.

"What do you remember most?" she asked, insisting on a response.

"The closeness. The family," he replied softly. "But those days are lost. You can't get them back."

"Perhaps the days are lost," she answered, "But each day has the potential for making new memories."

Turning away from the window, he walked across the patio and looked out at the white-mantled lawn.

"I tried," he said.

"I know," she said, coming behind him and placing her hand on his shoulder. "You tried for Dick and for Jason. You even had Alfred do the Grinch for them."

"It wasn't the same, though," he said.

"What made the difference?" she asked in that "I know the answer but I want you to say it" voice that every mother has.

Batman stood there for a moment, and his mother waited patiently.

"I'm not sure," he finally said without conviction.

"It's because you can't turn the closeness on and off, Bruce," she replied. "During the holidays, your father and I didn't have to try to be close with each other, or with you. We simply were. We allowed each other in."

He simply sighed, then whispered, "It's not that easy."

"Trust me, Bruce," she said. "It takes more work to keep people at a distance than it does to simply let go and let them in."

She gently took his arm and drew him back to the window. Young Bruce was now in his pajamas, and he and his mother were alone in the living room. He was sitting on her lap, his head on her shoulder, more asleep than awake. She rocked him slowly in her arms, whispering to him. "And in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of Galilee, named Nazareth, to a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin's name was Mary." She finished the story of the first Christmas, and then she bent down and kissed her little boy's forehead.

At the same time, her counterpart on the patio turned to Batman and brushed her lips softly against his cheek. There was brief flash of light, and the Batman found himself again in the alley next to the car, alone.


	3. The Ghost of Christmas Present

Batman stood still for a few moments after his mother disappeared, half-hoping she'd return, half-expecting to wake up and find it was all just a strange dream. Neither happened. He took a long, deep breath and opened the door of the Batmobile. Before he climbed in, though, he saw a flash of light inside one of the supposedly deserted warehouses to his left.

Senses again on the alert, he moved to the warehouse door and found it unlocked. He silently opened the door, stepped inside and turned on his flashlight. It seemed like a regular hallway in a warehouse, but there was a light behind one of the office doors about halfway down the corridor. He paused outside the door, listening intently, when a soft voice called out, "Go ahead and come in, Bruce."

Cautiously, he responded to the summons, and opened the door. To his amazement, he didn't see an office or anything else that belonged in a warehouse. Instead, the door opened onto one of the main hallways of Wayne Manor.

A woman rose from a chair and moving forward to take his arm, said, "Bruce, it's good to see you again."

He took another deep breath, turned to the woman, and said softly, "Hello, Vesper."

"This is the hallway where you found me, wasn't it?" she asked.

Pursing his lips, he simply nodded.

"We were quite a pair, weren't we?" she said. "The Urban Legend, and the Siren of the Night, although I didn't know it at the time." Without waiting for him to reply, she added, "Still not doing much with the holidays, are you?"

Bruce replied, "Dick's grown and gone. There's no need."

"Not everyone here feels that way, though," she countered, waving her hand slightly. With a flash of light, they were in the kitchen of the manor. Alfred was sitting at the table, sharing a cup of eggnog with Leslie Tompkins as they wrapped presents for the children at the clinic.

"I remember when Thomas and Martha had the whole manor filled with light for the holidays," Leslie said.

"As do I," Alfred agreed. "I've been trying to encourage Master Bruce to rekindle some of that, but he won't do it unless one of the younger ones is here, and then he's doing it for them, never for himself."

"He's lost in that godforsaken 'mission' of his," Leslie said. "There's no room for himself in his life, much less anybody else, no matter how much he cares."

"She has a point," Vesper said to Bruce.

"She doesn't understand," Bruce murmured. "I've tried to explain it, but she doesn't see."

"She's not the only one who doesn't see," Vesper replied. "You didn't think I'd believe that walking in on you playing 'Marco Polo' with those three woman was simply an accident or a coincidence, did you? I guess that's what hurt the most - the fact that you allowed me to get just so close, and then you deliberately pushed me away."

"I'm sorry you were hurt," Bruce said, "But I was trying to protect you from getting hurt worse. With what I do, the risk is too great."

"And even so," Vesper countered, "Cain was still able to strike at you by killing me. Pushing me away didn't change that."

"Maybe my mistake -- " Bruce began.

"Don't say it," Vesper interrupted. "Don't try to tell me that saving the city means you have to push people away."

"Doesn't it?" Bruce asked.

Vesper waved her hand, and the kitchen of the manor morphed into the kitchen of a rustic country farmhouse.

"He doesn't seem to think so," Vesper replied, "and he saves his city. Heck, he even saves the world."

Seated at the table were Jonathan and Clark Kent, talking about the crops they'd be planting in the spring, while Martha Kent was humming softly to herself at the sink as she washed the dishes.

Lois Lane sauntered casually into the kitchen, her hands behind her back, and said, "Are you sure I can't help you with the dishes, Martha?"

"Nonsense," Martha replied. "I'm just glad you were able to come, after being shot and all."

"Well," Lois said, as she stepped behind her husband's chair, "I guess I'll just have to find something else to do," and she promptly dumped a handful of fresh snow down the back of his shirt.

"To quote a famous rabbit," Clark said, "'You realize this means war.'" With that, he spun out of his chair and flew out the door with Lois over his shoulder and promptly dumped her into a snowbank.

Bruce and Vesper looked out the window as Clark held Lois around the waist, preventing her from getting up. After a few giggling attempts (of a not-very-determined nature) to escape, Lois pulled a leaf of mistletoe from her shirt pocket and stuck it in her hair. She winked at Clark, and pulled his face down to hers. As they kissed, her arm reached out, and another handful of snow found its way down Clark's back.

As the snowfight continued, Vesper turned to Bruce and said, "I'd say the burden on his shoulders is just as great, if not greater, than the one on yours. And yet, … "

"It's not the same," Bruce countered. "I can't cross oceans and countries in seconds in order to split time between relationships and mission. I can't outrace a speeding bullet to save the people I care about."

"And that's the only thing stopping you?" Vesper asked. With another handwave, the snowy farmyard changed into a crowded living room.

"Faster, Daddy, faster," Lian Harper gleefully called as her father galloped around the room with her on his back. A quick swivel of his hips kept him from running into Connor Hawke, who was comparing martial arts techniques with Dinah Lance.

"So it's thrust, snap, step, punch, swing, kick?" she asked, mimicking his motions.

"No," he said, "Punch, then step into the swing."

They were interrupted by Oliver Queen, trailed closely by Mia Dearden. "Look," he said, "Dinah, will you tell Mia how long I've been making this chili?"

"Are you adding up the years or the body count?" Dinah asked with a chuckle.

"Very funny," Oliver replied. Turning to Mia, he said, "I've been making chili ever since - "

"I know, I know," Mia exclaimed. "All I'm saying is that a little spice goes a long way."

"And a lot of spice goes even farther," Oliver said. "And I'm the cook, so what I say goes."

As he disappeared back into the kitchen, Mia turned to Dinah and said, "This is the real reason you broke up, right? Because he thinks he's God's gift to cooking?"

Dinah smiled and said, "Don't get me started. I'm here for Roy and Connor and Lian." Scooping Lian off of her father's back, she asked, "Isn't that right, honey?"

"Granma Dinah," Lian cooed, "Are you going to give me a horsey ride, too?"

Vesper and Bruce watched the happy melee for a bit longer before Vesper said, "Well, no superpowers in this room, but it doesn't look like that's stopping anybody from being close."

"Dinah has her canary cry," Bruce answered.

"Ollie doesn't, though," she replied. "And yet, that isn't stopping him from bringing people close. Even Dinah's here, and she and Ollie broke up."

"I envy them," Bruce admitted. "But it's still not the same. Ollie didn't watch his parents die or bury his partner."

Vesper rolled her eyes. "You're saying that people with tragedy and loss in their lives can't let others close?" Without giving him a chance to respond, she waved her hand. Once again, the surroundings shifted, this time to the living room of a small-but-homey apartment. There was a Scrabble board set out on the kitchen table, and the room was filled with a triumphant crowing.

"Yes!" cried Helena Bertinelli. "ZESTY with the S on a triple word score AND that also makes JAGUAR into JAGUARS, so that's tripled too."

Jim Gordon chuckled ruefully. "You know, Barbara, once you said your friend was a teacher, I should've known better than to pull out the Scrabble."

"That's ok, Dad," Barbara said with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Maybe she'll spot you 75 points next time."

There was more laughter as Barbara excused herself and rolled down the hallway. "No changing tiles while I'm gone," she called out. "If I come back to a tray filled with 4 E's and 3 I's, somebody is going to wind up wearing their cider."

Jim took that as a hint to refill three empty mugs. Helena took a sip from hers and said, "I just want to thank you for making me so welcome. When Barbara invited me to spend Christmas with her, I didn't realize I'd be horning in on family time."

"Barbara's friends are always welcome here," he said. "If I had known she had a friend that would be alone for the holidays, I would've insisted she bring you along."

"Even the last of the infamous Bertinellis?"

Jim took a long puff of his pipe and said, "A name's just a name. They lived their lives one way, and you're living yours another." He paused before adding, "There's pain enough in the world, and you've had your share. We all have. No point in adding to it by taking on someone else's guilt."

"Now that's a healthy attitude," Vesper remarked as Barbara returned and the game continued. "Father and daughter with more pain and loss in their lives than most, and yet, they don't push people away. They draw them in."

"They're very special people, Vesper," Bruce replied. "How many people could do that, especially in Gotham?"

"What about Gotham?" Vesper asked.

"You know Gotham," he replied. "Gotham feeds tragedy rather than healing it. What's broken tends to stay broken."

Vesper waved her hand, and the room morphed again. They were now in Selina's apartment and Vesper said, "That might come as a surprise to them."

Selina was standing in the doorway to the kitchen while Slam Bradley was stretched out in a recliner and Karon was curled up on the end of the couch. In the middle of the room, Holly scrunched her face into her concept of a "tough guy". In a theatrical rasp, Holly growled, "You guys're even dumber than ya look. Dontcha know there's a reason they call me Slam?"

Everybody laughed, including Slam, who said, "I never said that in my life." He paused to take a sip of his drink before adding, "Good line, though."

"Well," Selina said, "At least they were smart enough to leave the East End."

"Not like Slam gave 'em much of a choice," Holly added. She went over to Slam, took the hand holding his drink and lifted it over his head, proclaiming, "The winnah, and still champeeeen, Suh-lammmm, Brrradleeeey!"

Slam chuckled and reached over with his other hand to throw a mock punch toward Holly's stomach. "Har-de-har-har," he growled.

Selina bent over, picked up one of the several cats lounging around the room, and dropped it in Slam's lap. "Trade ya," she said as she put her arm around Holly's shoulder and pointed her toward the kitchen. "Everybody gets KP at least once during the holidays, and tonight's your turn."

Karon got off the couch and headed toward the kitchen saying, "It's not so bad. I'll lend you a hand."

The living room became quiet as Slam and Selina sat quietly. Finally, Slam said, "Still pissed at me?"

Selina took a deep breath and said, "Let's not talk about that tonight, Slam. It's Christmas Eve. We can talk in a few days."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Karon asked, "You mean, she invited Bruce Wayne? THE Bruce Wayne?"

Holly shrugged. "They've got a thing going on."

"Does Slam know?"

"I dunno," answered Holly. "I'm not sure he wants to know, even if he really does."

Karon dumped a generous amount of dish liquid in the sink and said, "So if they've got something going on, how comes he's not here?"

Holly shrugged again.

"Seems like a reasonable question," Vesper said. "They seem to think that 'broken' people can be close to each other, even in Gotham. So, why didn't you accept the invitation?"

"Who'd watch the streets?" he asked.

"So it's the 'mission' again," Vesper responded.

"It's who I am," Bruce said. "It's what I do."

"And what about the cost?" Vesper asked.

"It's not important," Bruce replied. "I knew it would cost me something when I started."

"I don't mean the cost to you," Vesper said quietly. "I mean the cost to the people you keep at a distance."

She waved her hand, and Selina's living room faded out and a relatively lonely beach faded in. Vesper pointed to a slim, solitary figure standing at the water's edge in rose-colored dress.

"Batgirl?" Bruce asked.

"No, Bruce. In her 'civilian' clothes, it's Cassandra," Vesper answered. "Batgirl is just her mask."

"What's she doing here?" he asked. "She's supposed to be up in Bludhaven."

"She was," Vesper said. "But she comes here from time to time."

"Why?" he asked, and without a word, Vesper simply pointed across the water to the hulking mass that was Blackgate Prison.

As they watched, Cassandra stared wistfully out toward the prison island, then began pacing slowly back and forth. She paused to look at a piece of paper she was holding, then back at Blackgate. She turned as if to leave, but then stopped, and paced some more.

Finally, Cassandra simply sighed, and her squared shoulders slumped. She crumpled up the paper, dropped on on the sand, and walked slowly away.

Bending down, Bruce picked up the paper, and saw that it was a very simply written note. "Merry Christmas," and below that a model of indecision and conflict. First it said, "Father," but that was crossed out, and "Daddy" was written below that. That, too, was crossed out and replaced with "Cain." Finally, "Cain" had been crossed out, and written below that, almost violently, was "Monster". That had been crossed out as well, and the final line simply said, "Whatever you are."

"She needs somebody," Vesper said. "But she's not going to ask to be cared for. She's going to need to be drawn in. Not pushed away to another city. When you count the cost of your 'mission', are you counting what she's paying?"

Bruce didn't answer, and after a moment, Vesper continued. "And then there are the others."

Bruce closed his eyes, almost knowing what was coming next. When he opened them again, they were standing outside a residential mental health facility in Bludhaven. They watched as Tim Drake slowly walked down the path from the entrance until he passed through the fence and turned onto the sidewalk. At that point, he turned to look back at the hospital, taking a series of deep breaths. Each breath seemed to let out more air than it took in, until Tim was completely deflated.

He then turned and starting walking down the street. He only got as far as a small park, where he sat at a picnic table, and simply covered his face with his hands.

Bruce anticipated Vesper's remarks by saying, "I'm doing what I can for him. Dana's getting the absolutely best care available."

"That's just money, Bruce," Vesper countered. "Does he look like somebody whose biggest need right now comes from a checkbook?"

Bruce looked away and said, "Maybe, if I called Leslie, … "

"You just don't understand, do you?" Vesper said, with more than a hint of frustration. "And what about Dick? Are you going to farm him out to Leslie, too?"

At the mention of his adopted son's name, Bruce looked up sharply, but before he could offer a retort, the scene had changed again. Now they were on a Bludhaven rooftop.

"I know this building," Bruce murmured.

Vesper nodded. "This is where Tarantula shot Blockbuster." Pointing across the roof to a dark form seated on the edge of the roof, she added, "And there's the other person that she might as well have shot, for all the harm she did him."

"What is he looking at?" Bruce wondered out loud.

"Pictures," Vesper answered. "He carries them with him everywhere he goes now."

"Pictures of what?" Bruce asked.

"His parents. The circus. Him with you. Him with the Titans. Him with Starfire. Him with Barbara. But mostly, him with you." She paused for a moment before continuing, "He comes back here 3 or 4 times a week."

Bruce considered that in silence as he watched Dick. Looking closely, he saw the shoulders begin to shiver. Then the tremors enveloped his head and back. He didn't need listening equipment to hear the wracking sobs that accompanied the shaking of his body.

Vesper said softly, "You say you push people away to protect them. Tell me, does he look like somebody who is benefiting from that 'protection'?"

She waved her hand one final time, and they were back in the alley by the Batmobile.

"You know from what your mother showed you that you allowed people in once," she said. "People you care about need to you let them in now." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "Almost as much as you need to let them in for your own sake, as well."

Then she was gone.


	4. The Ghost of Christmas Future

Batman hesitated for a moment before climbing back into the Batmobile and returning to Wayne Manor. Sitting in front of the powerful computers, he pulled up the profiles of Jason Todd, Martha Wayne, and Vesper Fairchild. He re-read the information on each one, pausing to gaze upon their visage for a few minutes before moving on to the next.

He closed the screen and was about to leave the computer when the darkness of the cave was briefly illuminated by yet another flash of light. A vaguely familiar man's voice said, "Impressive, son. I imagine you have my profile recorded as well."

Batman spun around in the chair. "Father?"

Thomas Wayne stepped out of the shadows and stood next to his son. "Jason did tell you there would be three visitors," he said.

Pulling the cowl back from his head, Bruce gave a slight nod and said, "I've already been told that I need to let people close."

"And how do you plan to do that, Bruce?"

Bruce sighed. "They don't understand my mission. Whatever it costs me is something I'm willing to pay."

"What about the ones around you?" Thomas asked. "The ones Vesper showed you?"

Bruce paused, eyebrows furrowed as he thought about that for a moment. Finally, he said, "I'll have to find a way to meet those needs, but without jeopardizing the mission. Maybe the Wayne Foundation -"

"- is a poor substitute," interrupted Thomas. "You can do a lot of good with money, and you have. But money can't fill the empty place in a person's heart and soul." He stopped for a moment before adding, "And as things stand, your 'mission' is gong to take even that away."

Bruce digested that briefly, sitting with his elbows on the arms of his chair and his fingertips touching in front of his face. He then reached back to pull his cowl back on and said simply, "Show me."

Suddenly, the cave dissolved into a downtown sidewalk. The alley ahead of them had three police cars and an ambulance parked at the entrance.

Renee Montoya was talking to an obviously rattled young patrolman. "The shoot-to-kill order was still in place, Richards," she said. "If there's any heat, it'll come down on the Commissioner, not you."

"But I never thought ...," began Richards.

"You can't second-guess yourself, son," Commissioner Akins said. "He was warned, but he put himself in harm's way."

He turned to Montoya and said, "Any more information since you called me?"

"Still waiting on the final word from the paramedics, but I couldn't find a pulse."

With that, the crowd parted, and a gurney carrying a very still caped figure was moved toward a waiting ambulance.

Akins turned his attention to the paramedic, who answered the unspoken question with, "DOA. Bullet entered the left cheek about an inch below the edge of the cowl. There's no exit wound, so it's likely lodged in the brain."

Akins nodded and, looked down at the body on the gurney. The cowl had been removed by the paramedics, but the right side of his face was clearly recognizable.

"I'll be damned," muttered Akins. "All this time, it was Wayne? Helluva way to celebrate Christmas, playboy." He then turned back to Montoya.

"I want you to get out to Wayne Manor," Akins said. "Take some uniforms with you. Get that place locked down, though. And keep off the radio with this. If there's somebody out there listening, we don't want to tip them off. I'll be out there myself shortly to see what kind of secrets he had hidden."

"So that's how it will end?" Batman asked.

Thomas answered, "If your path remains unchanged, yes."

"I always thought it would be the Joker, or Two-Face," Batman said. "I still don't understand, though, how this has anything to do with my letting people close to me."

"A couple things, Bruce," replied his father. "First, if you had cultivated the closeness and trust with Commissioner Akins that you had years to develop with Jim Gordon, there never would've been a shoot-to-kill order given. But secondly, you would've had somebody here to back you up. A second person to split the burden of the city, and a second set of eyes when yours were too fatigued to see the officer who shot you."

Batman took a long breath, and then shook his head. "It's my responsibility. If I die in the process, so be it. But I can't ask somebody else to place themselves in the path of a bullet just because I might get tired."

There was the pop of a flashbulb, and Akins looked up to see the photographer that was about to take another picture of Batman's body. "Hey, get the hell out of here," Akins snapped, then turning to one of the uniformed officers, he added, "Would you mind escorting the press away from the crime scene until we're finished up here?"

"He should've taken the camera," Batman said.

Thomas nodded, and as he reached into the deep pockets of his coat, he said, "But he didn't. Look at tomorrow's front page."

Batman took the paper and unfolded it to see the headline screaming, "BATMAN SLAIN BY GCPD! IDENTITY REVEALED!" The picture of Batman's body was next to a file photo of Bruce Wayne at a charity ball, surrounded by a group of lovely debutantes. Bruce shook his head and said, "I'm sorry, Father. I'm sure that's not the legacy you would've preferred for the family name."

"It's not about legacy, Bruce," chided Thomas. "I couldn't care less what historians who don't know any better write about us. No, it's about lives. Namely, the ones that are going to try to keep going on going after your death." He waved his hand, and the nighttime street was transformed into the steps of police headquarters, where a podium was set up and members of the press were gathered and waiting.

Akins stepped up to the mike and said, "The investigation into the activities of the vigilante Batman, better known as Bruce Wayne, has continued in these months since his death. I'd like to announce that we have today taken into custody an Alfred Pennyworth, Mr. Wayne's butler and, we believe, co-conspirator in his illegal and unauthorized activities. Although we were unable to bring Mr. Wayne to trial, we will continue in our efforts to track down all those who aided and abetted him."

As reporters began to pepper the Commissioner with questions, Batman said, "They can't possibly make a case for that. All they can do is make assumptions, but they can't prove anything."

Thomas asked, "Tell me, Bruce, is that the Gotham legal system you know?"

"With Alfred gone, is Dick in the Manor?"

Thomas shook his head. Another motion and they were standing where there should have been an elegant pewter arch over the path leading to the mansion. The arch was gone, though, replaced with a pair of marble columns which were carved in the shape of voluptuous nymphs.

Batman began walking up the path toward what had been Wayne Manor, followed by his father. They could see from a distance that the building was ablaze with lights, and music was pouring across the lawn. He stopped short when he saw the familiar stout form standing at the door to welcome the mayor and his secretary. He turned to his father and asked, "How?!"

Thomas sighed and said, "There was a class action civil right lawsuit filed against your estate by a large number of those you fought over the years. They won, and your personal assets were auctioned off to pay the settlement. The manor was bought by Mr. Cobblepot."

"Penguin owns the manor now?" Batman said with clenched teeth.

Thomas nodded, and suddenly they were in the center of the Batcave. At least, what had been the Batcave. The trophy room was filled with boxes of smuggled contraband. There was a steady stream of traffic in and out of the room as some boxes were taken to the dock where the Batboat had once been moored, and other boxes were being unloaded from a couple of trucks sitting where the Batmobile had once been parked. The mighty Cray computers had been replaced with surveillance monitors, picking up signals from hidden cameras on a number of street corners and alleyways, not to mention offices and bedrooms.

One of the images on the monitor caught Batman's eye. "That's my office at WayneCorp. What's a LexCorp logo doing on the wall?"

"It might be easier to show you," Thomas said, and they found themselves at the entrance to a large office building at noon. A group of workmen had just removed the sign reading "WayneCorp" and were breaking it up to fit better in the nearby dumpster. There was a large tarp-covered object on a flatbed truck, and after finishing with the old sign, they pulled off the tarp to reveal a sparkling new sign: "LexGotham: A Subsidiary of LexCorp Industries".

"That can't be true," Batman exclaimed. "Lucius would never…"

"Lucius Fox is no longer here, Bruce," Thomas said. "Auditors put together a list of large items thought to be missing and assumed lost from WayneCorp warehouses. They put it together with anecdotal reports of the tech you used as Batman, and while there wasn't enough there to press charges of embezzlement, it was more than enough for the board to remove Lucius from his position."

"But Lucius didn't know anything about it," Batman answered.

Thomas nodded sadly and said, "That's what he told the board, but nobody believed him. They said it 'strained the bounds of credibility' to think that your handpicked choice to run the company would have been kept in the dark about what you were doing."

"What's he doing now?"

"He's out in Seattle," Thomas answered. "Oliver Queen is on the board of a small private high school there, and he made sure they hired Lucius to teach sophomore business classes."

Batman paused for a moment, then turned to Thomas and asked, "But LexCorp? When Superman and I forced Luthor to admit his Darkseid connection and he left the Presidency, he didn't have anything left. Wayne Industries had bought LexCorp."

"True," Thomas said, "But in the process, some LexCorp shareholders wound up on the Wayne Board. Lucius had kept them under control, but after your identity was revealed, he lost a lot of his backing. The Luthor people were a solid block, and Lex knew about the skeletons in enough closets to control them, behind the scenes, of course."

Batman shook his head sadly, saying, "At least Lucius had something to go to."

"True," Thomas said. "Which is more than some of the others could say."

"Where are the others?"

Instead of answering, Thomas gave a quick wave, and they found themselves in a small dojo. They watched for a moment as two women sparred back and forth. They seemed evenly matched until the taller of the two slipped through her opponents defenses, and after a couple of quick strikes, the smaller woman was on her back. The taller woman stepped back from her sparring partner and tossed her a a towel, She said, "Better, Cassandra, but not good enough. We'll do more after lunch."

Batman muttered, "Shiva." Turning to Thomas, he said, "Why? Why would Cassandra go to Shiva?"

"After her experiences with Cain and then your death, she closed herself off to anybody who might possibly be a father figure. She was on her way back to Gotham to find Barbara or Dinah, but her path crossed Shiva's."

"So she's given up as Batgirl to be an assassin? I can't believe that."

Thomas shook his head. "She may not be wearing the Batgirl costumed, but she still believes in saving lives, not taking them. She thinks she can learn skills from Shiva without going all the way to the taking of a life. Shiva, of course, has other ideas. She also thinks Shiva can be changed, but the jury is out on that as well."

"So she left Robin alone to handle Bludhaven in Nightwing's absence?"

Thomas shook his head. "Tim's not in Bludhaven, either." Another wave, and they were in the dining room of Titans Tower. It was empty except for Starfire and Cyborg, who were staring out the window.

"So what do we do with him?" Cyborg asked.

"I don't know," Starfire replied. "There's no question that he learned a lot from Oracle, and he's got our information systems running better and smoother than they ever have. But still…. "

"I know," Cyborg agreed. "He's a fighter but he's stopped fighting. I don't know if we're helping him or hurting him by letting him set his own time table for getting back onto the streets."

At that point, the door opened, and a haggard looking Tim Drake passed silently through with a sandwich. "Hey, Robin," Cyborg said, "How're you doing today?" Without looking at him, Tim shrugged and disappeared through the door leading to the computer center.

"The Titans are the only ones he could turn to?" Batman asked. "What about Barbara, or Dick, or even Selina? Where is Dick, anyway?"

Thomas placed a hand on his son's shoulder, and said simply, "This isn't going to be easy, Bruce." Then the now familiar wave of light brought them to the hallway of Gotham Heights Nursing Home. The hallway was festooned with tinsel and colored lights. A seemingly out-of-place policeman stood on guard outside one of the rooms. As they entered the room, they saw Dick lying motionless on a bed. Various tubes and wires hooked him up to a respirator, an IV bottle, and an assortment of monitors. Barbara Gordon was sitting next to his bed, his hand limply resting in hers. Against the far wall, Selina Kyle was sleeping in one of the chairs.

Batman pulled off his cowl and softly asked, "How?"

Thomas took a deep breath before answering. "He came to Gotham after your death, and he became something of a madman. Barbara tried to talk him into slowing down, but he just worked harder. Finally, the lack of sleep and proper food caught up with him, and when he tried to take down Two-Face, he was badly beaten and left for dead on the docks. The doctors don't believe he's likely to ever emerge from the coma, but Barbara and Selina refuse to let them even discuss turning off the respirator."

Bruce swallowed hard before speaking. "I know Barbara and Dick have always had a special relationship, but why is Selina staying? They were never particularly friendly."

"He is your son," Thomas said simply. "It's like he's the last part of you left for her to hold on to."

He paused for a moment before going on. "The city has gone to court to have a guardian appointed who would have the authorization to sign the order to remove life support. Barbara is trying to fight it, but since she's not a relative, the city stands likely to win their case."

Bruce stared in silence at the scene in front of him for a short while before saying, "Enough. I've seen enough." Thomas nodded, and suddenly, they were back in the Batcave.

Bruce sat slumped in his chair for several moments before asking, "What am I supposed to do? Even if I did everything that Mother and Vesper said I should, in terms of letting people get close, even if I somehow got Akins to see things differently, I'm not immortal. Is everything and everybody so fragile that it will all come apart when that day comes?"

"No," said Thomas. "There are many ways to live and to die, and the reactions of those around us will be different with each one of them." At this point, he walked over to Bruce and crouched in front of him, looking him in the eye like he had when Bruce was a boy and they had to talk about "serious things".

"There are people who care about you, and you keep pushing them away," he said. "Let them close enough to draw strength from you, close enough for you to draw strength from them. That strength can carry you to a life that may not end in that alley, but, more importantly, it will also give them the strength to carry on when the day comes that you are gone." He placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. Then he was gone, and Bruce was alone.


	5. The Three Rings

Bruce sat still at the computer for several minutes after his father's ghost vanished. Then, standing up, he pulled the cowl back over his head and strode to the workshop where he looked around for a few moments before picking up an axe. He then went to the JLA transporter and, after entering the proper codes, disappeared from the Batcave.

*******

Flash did another quick glance at the various screens in the monitor womb before settling into his seat and typing in "Elf Bowling".

The screen blinked with the words "Unauthorized application."

"Oh, man," he grumbled. "How's a person supposed to keep from dying of boredom without a game or two?" Then a flicker of one of the monitor's caught his eye.

He watched as Batman appeared in the transporter room.

"Hey, early relief!" he crowed. "And I thought J'onn was next in line."

The smile faded from his face, though, as Batman went to the controls, typed in a few commands, and then stepped back onto the transporter and disappeared.

Out of curiosity, Flash pulled up the transporter log. "Montana?" he asked to himself.

A half hour passed, and Flash was about to call Oracle and see if she could hack around the game block when there was more activity in the transporter room.

Flash raised his eyebrows and then shook his head quickly, as if to shake out cobwebs.

When J'onn arrived, Flash said, "Hey, if you get bored, you might want to check the monitor connections to the transporter room. I think it's giving some false pictures."

J'onn nodded, and as he took his place in the monitor womb command chair, Flash headed to the transporter room. Sleep was going to feel awfully good.

He was halfway across the room when he wrinkled his nose and sniffed the air. He shrugged and was about to step onto the transporter pad when something caught his eye. He bent down and picked up a few stray pine needles on the flood by the transporter.

"What the ....?" he said to himself. "So he really did come through here with a tree?" Then he shrugged once again and transporting himself home.

*******

Alfred took one final look in the mirror to be certain that his appearance met with the standards he set for himself, and then he headed for the kitchen, just as he did every morning. Glancing back down the hall, he noticed with some surprise that Bruce's door, normally still shut after a long night's patrol, was wide open and the bed unslept in.

This morning, however, as he descended the elegant staircase, he was stopped short by a colorful glow coming from the den. Eyebrows raised, he moved to the entrance of the den and, in spite of himself, inhaled sharply at the sight of the tall, brightly lit spruce tree that filled one side of the room. He moved the grandfather clock to one side and peered down the stairs. The lights were out in the Batcave, so he closed the entrance and went to the kitchen.

From the window, he saw Bruce standing (without his coat, as usual) at the stone monument that marked his parents' grave. Alfred poured a cup of coffee, put on a coat and threw a second coat over his arm. He then went out to join Bruce at the gravesite.

Bruce silently accepted the coat from Alfred and then took the cup of coffee, sipping slowly. Alfred was about to return to the kitchen when Bruce finally spoke. "Have there been times when you felt that I pushed you away?"

"I believe you have tried," Alfred responded. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "May I ask what causes you to ask?"

"Long story," Bruce answered. "Let's just say I had an ... 'illuminating' ... night." He handed the empty cup to Alfred and asked, "Who do we know is coming for Christmas dinner today?"

"You and I and Leslie, I believe. I had hoped Master Dick would stay, but he left the Manor yesterday morning."

Bruce nodded, and as he zipped up the coat more securely, said, "Plan on a few more. I need to run some errands. I'll be back." He headed toward the garage, and a few moments later, Alfred saw Bruce's car head down the path leading away from the estate.

*******

Cassandra Cain looked up from the computer files she was reviewing, peering at the door with suspicion. The push of a few buttons, and the computer displayed the hallway outside her door, where Batman, no, make that Bruce Wayne, was standing.

She opened the door, and Bruce entered, looking around briefly before focusing his attention on her. "What did you have planned for today," he asked.

"Patrol," she answered. "Stores are closed for the holidays. Might be some people think it's a good time to break in."

Bruce nodded and said, "Probably so. Still, let that go for today. Come to the Manor." She gave him a questioning look, and he added, "I mean, as Cassandra. Not Batgirl. Alfred's fixing Christmas dinner."

"Then patrol?" she asked.

Bruce shook his head. "Not tonight. Not unless.... Well, just come. Can you get to Gotham on your own?" She nodded, and he said awkwardly, "Good. I'll, um, see you then."

After he closed the door, she went to a window and saw him get in his car and drive off. She waited for a couple minutes before going back to the computer. "Oracle? Batgirl. Batman okay?"

*******

Tim Drake locked the door of his apartment and headed down to Redbird parked on the street. As he stepped off the curb, a car pulled up and the driver's window rolled down to reveal Bruce.

"Tim, glad I caught you," Bruce called out. He motioned Tim over to the car door and asked, "Are you and Dana having Christmas dinner together?"

"No," Tim said, shaking his head. "There might be a little turkey and dressing for her lunch, but her meds tend to put her out for the night pretty early."

"I need you to come ... no, make that I'd like you to come to the Manor then. After you're finished with Dana, of course."

"Somebody loose from Arkham?" Tim asked, trying to remember anything out of the ordinary from the police scanner.

"No," Bruce said. "Just Christmas dinner. Alfred's preparing it."

"I don't know...." Tim trailed off.

Bruce waited for a moment for Tim to continue before saying, "I'd ... like it ... if you were there."

Tim chewed on his upper lip briefly before saying, "Okay."

*******

Dick was standing on the rooftop of the building where Blockbuster was killed when Bruce finally found him. Bruce walked over and stood next to him for a moment in silence before saying simply, "You left the manor." Dick shrugged but didn't say anything, so Bruce continued, "Alfred is fixing Christmas dinner. Will you come?"

Dick finally looked up and said, "I'm not sure. I don't think I have the right—"

Bruce interrupted him, saying, "You're my son. It's my home, so it's your home."

Dick simply shrugged and said, "I suppose if you want me to..."

Bruce placed his hand on Dick's shoulder, squeezing it. "I want you to."

Dick took a deep breath and said, "Alright."

Bruce smiled and said, "Good. I've got one more errand, but I'll see you then."

*******

Barbara Gordon took a long sip of her cider then leaned back in her chair to enjoy the view of the children playing in the snow from roof of her father's apartment building. It wasn't the same as the view from the Clocktower, but it was peaceful and comforting none the less. The fact that she was lost in the moment probably explained her startled jump when she heard a familiar "Barbara" behind her.

"Has it ever once occurred to you that not everybody likes to have somebody sneak up on them?" she snapped. Then, taking a deep breath, she asked, "What is it you need, Batman?"

"I need to speak with your father," Batman answered.

She sighed and said, "I'll let him know you're here," and began to roll toward the rooftop entrance.

"Wait," Batman said, firmly but not using "The Voice". She stopped, but she didn't turn toward him. "You should know that I couldn't do what you do," Batman said quietly. "And I couldn't do what I do without your help."

"Oh, PUH-LEESE! And that's why you disregarded my concerns about taking over the GCPD during the gang war, right?" At this she turned around and said, "We both know how intelligent you are, and there's nothing I do that you couldn't learn to do just as well. So what's this REALLY about?"

"You're wrong," Batman answered. "I could learn the tasks and procedures. But the instinctive understanding, the ability to see and understand the networks and information streams with just a look? That's a gift that can't be taught." He paused and then added, "I just thought you should know."

Before Barbara could answer, the door swung open and Helena Bertinelli stepped out. "Babs, you're going to miss-- " she began before seeing Batman, and almost immediately, her posture changed to a defensive one. "It's Christmas, you know. Can't whatever it is you think I screwed up wait?" she asked.

"I didn't come to see you, Helena," Batman replied. "As long as you're here, though, there's something I should say."

"Oh?" Helena said. "What would that be?"

"I've never doubted your courage or your commitment to do what you think is right." He paused before adding, "I may not have communicated that well in the past."

"'You may not have communicated that 'well'?" she asked. "Hell, you haven't communicated that, period."

Batman took a deep breath before saying, "I'll try to be more ... clear ... in the future."

"Helena," interrupted Barbara, "Can you go tell my father that there's somebody up here to see him?"

Helena gave Barbara a curious look, but with a shrug and a roll of the eyes, she disappeared back through the door.

Barbara looked at Batman intently for a moment. Then she spoke. "Batgirl called me earlier. Wondered if you were okay."

"I'm fine," Batman said. "Just trying to ... do the right thing."

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she said anything, James Gordon emerged through the door. She closed her mouth, squeezed her father's hand, and said, "I'll see you inside." She shot Batman a final curious look before leaving the two men alone on the roof.

"What brings you here, Batman?"

"A favor," Batman replied simply. "But a question first."

The retired Commissioner took a moment to light his pipe before taking a long puff and saying, "Okay, shoot."

"How long did it take you to trust me?" Batman asked.

"A while," Jim said. "I took a few chances early on, but they paid off. Made me willing to take a few more until they didn't feel much like chances any more."

Batman nodded slowly, and then said, "I forgot about that, and took it for granted. I got too accustomed to our relationship, and I assumed too much when you retired."

"I think you're putting it mildly," Jim said. "All you ever asked me to do early on was trust you with myself."

Batman nodded again. "But I asked Akins to trust me with the lives of the GCPD, without the history you and I had, and without trusting him enough to let him know the whole plan."

"If you're asking me to tell Akins to trust you ..."

"No," Batman said. "I have to earn that one."

"Good," Jim said. "Then what do you want?"

"He and I need to talk," Batman said. "Can you talk to him about that?"

Jim took another puff and said, "I can talk to him. Can't promise anything."

"I know," Batman said. "But you still have his respect."

Jim smiled wryly and said, "I think, underneath it all, he respects you. He's just angry. And I can't say as I blame him. But I'll talk to him. Call me in a couple of days."

"Thanks," Batman said. "And ... Merry Christmas."

He held out his hand, and Jim grasped it. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Batman."

With that, Batman disappeared. As he headed back inside, Jim Gordon muttered, "Well, this IS the season of miracles."

*******

Batman stepped off the teleporter in the Batcave, quickly showering and dressing before going upstairs. He knew Alfred must busy in the kitchen, since Leslie was at the door greeting everyone as they arrived.

"Tim! Cassandra!" she said cheerfully, taking their coats. "Cassandra, that's a lovely dress. And Tim, it's good to see you again, too." She hugged each of them, pausing a little longer with Tim as she said softly, "You'll make it through this. I know you will."

Tim smiled a weak smile before saying, "Dick's outside."

Leslie went to the door and saw the young man standing at the foot of the steps, appearing to stare intently at the sunset. She went to him, placed her hand on his arm and said, "Come in, Dick, its cold out here."

He silently allowed her to lead him into the Manor. Looking up, he saw Bruce standing at the entrance of the dining room, and he quickly looked away.

After a few minutes of awkward silence and brief pleasantries (mostly by Leslie), Alfred announced, "Dinner is served." They all gathered at the table, and before Alfred began slicing the turkey, Leslie nudged Bruce and said, "Don't you think a blessing would be appropriate?"

Bruce took a sip of water, closed his eyes and said, "Bless this food and thank you for ... family." He then took another hasty sip of water.

The dinner was superb, but the conversation was stilted, at best. Finally, after dessert was served, Bruce said, "Alfred, can you bring glasses and a pitcher of eggnog into the living room?" Alfred nodded and disappeared into the kitchen as Bruce and the small gathering made their way to the chairs and sofas that surrounded the Christmas tree.

After everyone had been served, Bruce rose to his feet and said, "I know this was all very last minute. I'm ... not very good at celebrating holidays. But, some ... friends ... have shown me a few things. And I need to do things differently. Or at least try."

With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out three keys. Walking around the room, he handed one to Cassandra, one to Tim, and one to Dick.

Tim spoke first. "I don't understand..."

"These are keys to the Manor. I know you all have them already. But the key isn't the gift," Bruce said. "It's just a sign."

He knelt down in front of Cassandra and took her hands in his. "Cassandra, you've been alone most of your life. For the first part, you had somebody who should have been a father to you. Instead, he was .... I was lucky. My father was a good father. Even when the mission seems like everything, I still carry a piece of that with me." He looked her closely and said, "We can't rewrite your past any more than we can rewrite mine. But you will always have a future here. That's what your key tells you. This will always be a home for you."

She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, and then she slid back in the chair, a little embarrassed, but holding the key like it was made of precious crystal. Clutching it to her breast, she said quietly, "Thank you."

Then Bruce moved to the couch next to Tim. Tim looked up at him curiously as Bruce began. "Tim, you've lost so much. In some ways, more than I did. First your mother, and almost your father. But he was restored to you, and you wound up with a fine stepmother in Dana. Then you lost him for good, and a piece of Dana is lost as well, and it's been on your shoulders to bear that burden." He paused before continuing. "I know how to write checks. But that's only a small part of the burden, and you shouldn't have to bear it alone." He shrugged and said, "I'm not going to pretend I'll know what to do or what to say all the time, or even very much of the time. I'll never replace your parents. I wouldn't try. But as best as I can, I'll stand with you. That's what your key tells you. You'll never have to be alone."

Bruce put his arm around Tim's shoulders and gave him a squeeze before moving over to Dick. He took Dick's hand and drew him to his feet. He placed his hands on Dick's shoulders and said, "You and I have been together for such a long time. Father and son in deed if not in name for most of it. There's probably nobody I've ever been prouder of, regardless of how badly I showed it at times."

Dick began to interrupt with, "But Bruce, after the way I've failed you, --," but Bruce raised a finger to silence him.

Then Bruce continued. "You have never failed me, Dick. Never. Not once. If anything, I've failed you by not being the father you needed. But you are my son. You have always been my son. Nothing you've done has changed that. There's nothing you could do that would. That's what your key tells you. You're family."

Dick let the floodgates loose at that, burying his head in Bruce's shoulder as he wept, just as he had that night at the circus so many years before. Bruce just held his son until he was all cried out. Then Dick pulled back, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his eyes as he sat back down.

Bruce looked at them all and said, "I'm not going to pretend I can flip a switch and magically make everything perfect. I know how to act in a dark alley, but there's so much I don't know about how to be with loved ones." He paused briefly, before saying, "But I'll try."

There was an awkward silence until Leslie said, "I have an idea. It's Christmas, and the Gotham Choral Society is doing an outdoor performance of the Christmas section of Handel's Messiah. It'll be wonderful."

The room filled with murmurs of, "I don't know", but Leslie didn't pause a second before saying, "Alfred, you get the car and I'll get the coats." Before long, the Wayne limousine was cruising the largely deserted road to Gotham City.

There was a good sized crowd gathered at the steps of the Gotham Cathedral when they arrived. Undeterred by the cold, there were greetings and impromptu caroling throughout the audience. Then the doors of the Cathedral opened and the singers, decked in bright robes and woolen gloves, began to take their places.

Bruce stood, with Dick, Tim, and Cassandra in front of him, much like an old-fashioned family portrait, and to their left stood Alfred and Leslie. Looking to his right, he saw Selina Kyle and her young friend Holly among the spectators. Catching Selina's eye, he jerked his head to one side to motion her over. With raised eyebrows, she sauntered over. Bruce slipped his arm around her waist without saying anything. She sighed and tilted her head to rest on his shoulder as the choir began.

_Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned._

"Perhaps someday," Bruce thought. Before he could think more on the irony of those words in Gotham City, though, his attention was drawn to the roof of a building across the street to the left of the Cathedral. Standing there were the Waynes, Vesper Fairchild, and Jason Todd. Bruce looked at them curiously, and Selina followed his gaze.

"What are you looking at?" she whispered.

Bruce allowed himself a smile and said to Selina, "It's a long story. Maybe some night over coffee."

Before she could ask anything else, Thomas looked at Bruce, nodded approvingly, and vanished. Martha clutched her hands to her heart, smiled, and then she too vanished. Vesper touched her lips and blew him a kiss before disappearing. Then Jason smiled at him, winked, and was gone.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Commissioner Akins paced back and forth in the parking garage next to Police Headquarters. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed a number.

"Jim? It's me. Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mike, I'm sure," said Jim Gordon on the other end of the connection. "He'll be there."

Akins grunted and snapped the phone shut. "Can't believe I'm doing this."

A movement in the shadows caught his eye. His hand moved instinctively to his holster until the cowled figure moved into the dim light.

Reaching beneath his cape, Batman produced a thermos and two cups. He filled one and handed it to Akins before filling the second and placing the thermos back wherever it came from.

Akins took a long sip followed by a deep breath.

"Alright," he said. "Let's talk................."

~ ~ The End ~ ~


End file.
